The Settlers: New Alliances
by Rockerduck
Summary: The war against The Red Prince is won, but there are many loose ends to tie up before peace can rule in the realm of Westerlin once more. Difficult times call for unusual measures...
1. In Retrospect

Compulsory Disclaimer: The characters, locations etc. contained in this story belong to the makers of the games "The Settlers: Rise of an Empire", I claim only the artistic license to bend the Knights to my will and ruin their lives entirely.  
>All featured song lyrics, poems or other written material belong to their respective copyright holders.<p>

Somewhat important note: This story was first published about ... three years ago, and its long overdue for some major updating. It's only due to my completely non-functional computer that I can't afford to replace that there hasn't been an update.  
>You'll find many funny language related errors and spellos in the current version; rest assured that I'm aware of them, thanks to Parchmentrose and her native British upper class proofreading!<p>

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**Again, this is not the updated version. It's a slightly de-engmushed original version of the story, not the promised rewrite. Blame electronics and my constant lack of monies to replace them.**

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><p>Author's Note: It is recommended that you read "Hopeless Sincerity", "Mathematics of Deceit" and "Folly of Flight" prior to this story.<p>

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><p><em>.<em>

_You feel bittersweet when others win  
>You'd rather see them fall than gain a thing<br>You know you're too afraid to fail  
>You're not the one; you're not the one<em>

.

It had been six months. Six months since the capture. She had thought herself to be invincible, but it was apparent that she was not.

The war with Vestholm had gone badly from the very outset. Not that was surprising to her at all; Her former sovereign's unquenchable arrogance made everything go inevitably wrong and it had been only a matter of time until Vestholm's forces had overwhelmed the notoriously undermanned fortifications of the Red Prince's empire. The Settlers of the towns had welcomed the invaders as liberators instead of resisting them as occupiers.  
>Her own efforts, ingenious at they had been, had proven little effective as they had been overshadowed by his lingering insanity and reckless ambition. She, his right hand woman and loyal servant had quit the field after her expedition to Janub had turned into a shambles.<br>Loyal – even the thought provoked a bitter smile, almost a sneer. Oh, she knew full well that her 'loyalty' solely depended upon the power that had been offered to her. Nevertheless, she _had_ been loyal to the Red Prince and his dreams of empire – for a while. His considerations had been valuable and plentiful until it had become apparent to her that her own agenda could no longer be supported by her former master's priorities which were unlike her own.

Needless to say he didn't see it coming when Crimson Sabatt had decided that it would be more beneficial to her to ally herself with Vestholm's forces in time; a pure necessity if she didn't want to be amongst those annihilated by the raging war.

Six months since the war was over.

Six months in the confines of a prison cell.

She thoughtfully recapitulated the events that had led to her downfall: Trusting those mercenaries with the plans for the trebuchets – a grave mistake she definitely would not repeat given another chance. The stupid fools had the plans stolen from right under their noses. Too bad the powerful siege engines were easily used against her own city wall, and the main gate at that.

This time she did sneer. The irony of it all was not lost on her.

At that point, of course, she had still been entirely certain that her plan would work out splendidly in the end.

Let the eager Knights of Darion dwell on their short-lived success of capturing her, only to laugh at their faces once they realised that their own capital city of Vestholm was taken away from them by one of their own, defected to the Red Prince.

To see the look on their faces when she would nonchalantly stride across their former throne room as if it belonged to her. Oh how she would have savoured that moment, watching that nuisance of a knight, Lord Marcus, as he completely lost it.

.

_"Marcus, stop!" cried Lady Alandra. Crimson Sabatt, struck by Lord Marcus' fist, tumbled to the floor from the sheer force of his blow. _

_"That's what I owed you for Fanshaw!" he yelled, but despite the blaze of fury in his eyes he ceased his attack. Alandra gave him an accusing look, then rushed to Sabatt._

_"Figures," commented Lady Kestral, former bandit leader from Gallos, arms folded._

_"Oh, you are beyond reason, all of you!" Alandra knelt down beside Sabatt to check on her._

_Sabatt sneered, a mischievous look upon her face despite her less than favourable position. She sat on the floor as though nothing had happened and briefly felt her nose. It was bleeding, but not broken. Luckily, Marcus didn't wear his plate gauntlets. _

_"Indeed, Lord Marcus? You would blame another for your careless mistake? It was very unfortunate of you to fail to properly inspect the lance that was given to you, but there is hardly anyone else to blame but you, is there?" _

_"You …!" Marcus bellowed, agitated and about to jump at Sabatt once again. _

_"Marcus!" Alandra scolded, still kneeling beside Sabatt who didn't even acknowledge her presence. It was not that Lady Alandra enjoyed to assist the inveterate enemy of the Darion Empire, but it was her duty to ensure that Crimson Sabatt would not be harmed within their custody. _

_"I'd turn a blind eye, Lord Marcus, if you decided to go for her," rumbled a deep voice that belonged to Thordal, Viking of the Northern Realms and trusted member of Vestholm's royal court._

_"What do we do with her anyway? Let's not forget she tried to kill you guys several times. Among everything else, that is," mused Kestral, her head cocked to the side as she observed the two women on the floor. _

_"Let us not forget, **Lady** Kestral," Alandra stiffly retorted, "that these are our Queen's orders and the prisoner is not to be harmed. Do behave like Knights of the Darion Empire for once!" _

_Sabatt could not help but chuckle. It was almost worth a bloody nose and her bruised ego to watch those models of propriety disgrace themselves by behaving like the mindless fools she thought them to be._

_"Oh, come **on**!" Kestral rolled her eyes and spread her arms to emphasise her following words. "You can't be serious! After all she's done to you!"_

_Marcus especially had not forgotten his time as the Red Prince's 'domestic advisor'. Another sham; and while he had come to accept his own folly in falling for Sabatt's scheme he never forgave what had happened to Alandra._

_The female Knight had by then checked on their captive and stood next to her as both got up. Her accusing glance fastened on each of the Knights. _

_"So, is there actually one among you I can trust to not try to kill Crimson Sabatt on the way down to the cells?" Her voice was dripping with acid. _

_The Knights looked at each other. _

_Kestral shrugged, Marcus was not an option, Thordal looked towards the ceiling and Hakim – well, Hakim was not currently in Vestholm, otherwise he might have been the most sensible of them all, next to Alandra herself._

_"Oh, fine then. I'll do it myself." She sighed. _

_"I apologise for the behaviour of Lord Marcus," Alandra stated with another sigh as she led the amused Sabatt away, hopeless in her sincerity._

.

Regrettably it didn't look like she would be able to pay Marcus back for it.

Which was, in summary, her current dilemma. Sabatt had been content the first days of her confinement. It had been her intention, of course, to receive an audience with the Queen of Darion and convince her that really, her part in all of this was truly minor compared to her former master's, and surely a wise and powerful leader would understand that she had only been following orders. Of course she had, wasn't she but the unfortunate servant of an insane Prince?

Alas, Sabatt had only been admitted to see the Queen once and that hadn't been exactly … promising. That stupid Red Prince had managed to completely challenge the Queen's rule and thus momentarily ruined whatever chances there might have been for her to worm out of this.

So here she was, stuck in a prison cell for how long she didn't know and eventually understood that this was not going to change any time soon. Nor would any of those 'loyal' to her attempt to bail her out. Such was the downside of the ways by which she had ensured their obedience. How incredibly unfortunate, she mused.

No, not invincible. But not broken, too, she wouldn't give them that. If all she could do was remain dignified then she would, for as long as they decided to keep her here.

Her time would come.

She was Crimson Sabatt and she would not yield.


	2. Between A Rock And A Hard Place

"Enjoy your stay?"

If any person managed to fuel Sabatt's grudge even more than 'Lord' Marcus it was 'Lady' Kestral. In fact, the latter easily ranked first.

From the occasional visits that the Knights paid their captive, Kestral's were the most unnerving.

It had to be said that Alandra's visits, on the contrary, were somewhat entertaining. It was beyond Sabatt's understanding how that woman managed to express such genuine concern for her well-being. Far too trusting, and far too good for this world.

Crimson Sabatt didn't bother to respond to Kestral's purely hypothetical question or her annoying presence.

It had become a habit of hers to spend her days in a certain purposeful demeanour as though she had work to do and would walk out of that cell if only she so wished. She idly stood close to the metal bars of her prison as she usually would at this time – thinking, if not for that insolent little rogue.

Kestral cheerfully approached the bars and smiled broadly. "Guess what?"

Sabatt very nearly rolled her eyes. But that would have given away too much, so she settled for an acrid statement. "I have the most infallible feeling you will not spare me the answer." Her expression remained indifferent, arms crossed in a mock image of the female Darion Knight.

"We just got a message from Rossotorres," Kestral boasted, "or should I say Liberotorres?"

Oh, grand. That woman had come here to gloat over such nonsense as the renaming of the Red Prince's former capital. Next would be bee hives or something.

"Really."

Kestral scanned the woman's face thoroughly, but much to her disappointment she didn't get to see even as much as surprise. "Not going to celebrate with us, are you, huh?"

Sabatt sighed. And rolled her eyes, this time. "Rest assured that I will find much reason to rejoice once you remove yourself from my sight."

Kestral laughed and shook her head. "You're just dull. I wanted to cheer you up, is all."

Oh, the nerve of that girl. She probably even meant it – talk about dull, Sabatt thought.

She opened her mouth for the sharp response she already had on tip of her tongue, but the gods must have taken pity on poor Kestral and spared her that venomous outburst, for a male voice interrupted them.

"Lady Kestral, Crimson Sabatt. Am I interrupting?" The voice belonged to Lord Hakim who, for all they knew, could have been standing near the staircase all the while without them noticing.

Kestral flashed him a bright smile (which almost made Sabatt retch). "Hey, Wisey! Didn't notice you there. Been waiting for long?"

The southerner waved his hand in a dismissive manner signalling there was nothing to worry about. "No, I only arrived a moment ago to have a word with Crimson Sabatt."

Kestral smirked and turned to wave Sabatt goodbye. "Sure. I'll be upstairs."

The former bandit strode past Hakim who politely moved out of her way, and disappeared from sight.

.

"One would assume a dungeon such as this to be a quieter place," Crimson Sabatt said in a pensive voice, allowing it to trail off a little.

Her arms were still crossed in front of her as she casually leaned against the confinements of her prison cell, looking at nothing in particular.

The man from Janub raised an eyebrow. "Your attitude in defiance of your situation is rather remarkable, Crimson Sabatt."

She did the same, briefly sizing him up. "If you say so. How can I be of service, Knight of Fools?"

Ah. Straight to the point. Hakim nodded to himself in silent acknowledgement of Sabatt's decision to not take him for a fool, despite the nickname she always used.

"The question is not what you can do for me but what you _will_ do for Vestholm." He carefully observed her as he said this.

Sabatt's expression hinted that she took an interest in his proposal but she didn't give away her thoughts just yet. "And what," she gently asked, "amount of willingness would Vestholm require from me?"

Hakim looked her in the eye but did not step closer to emphasise the significance of his words. His face was stern as he launched into a speech. "Your every amount. Do not take me for a fool, Crimson Sabatt, for I am not. The proposition I make is not one to be taken lightly or in jest. It is not a proposal you would be able to dismiss once you decide to accept it." He paused, staring at her intently. "Do you understand the significance of values in a Knight of this kingdom?"

Sabatt chuckled softly, which made him frown.

"Lord Marcus is most certainly a shining example of your precious values, isn't he? Be serious, man from Janub, your values are-"

Hakim briskly interrupted her without hiding the discontent in his voice. "Lord Marcus often wears his heart upon his sleeve, and his youth subjects him to folly – but I will not have you ridicule one as valiant as him, Crimson Sabatt. Yours is no position to amuse yourself at the expense of those who defeated the Red Prince – and you."

Sabatt glared at him and sized him up a second time as she was put in her place, then calmly stated: "Make your proposal, then."

Hakim slowly shook his head. "Let me be blunt with you: I will not waste my time with your games or your refusal." He gave her a look that plainly dared her to object.

Against her own will, Crimson Sabatt was impressed. She bent her head subserviently in spite of her indignant glare. "Continue, if you will."

.

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><p><em>"To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the<br>opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself."_

— **Sun Tzu**

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_One day later_

.

All five Knights of Vestholm had come together at the fireside in the chart room of the castle.

Kestral sprawled in the large armchair she commonly used, looking at Lord Hakim who had summoned them. Marcus slouched near the mantle expectantly while Lady Alandra occupied her seat upright and mannerly. Thordal didn't bother with the armchairs he always claimed were too small for him anyway and put both his gargantuan hands on the backrest of the chair that would be his. "So," he rumbled, "What matters need to be discussed?"

Hakim looked at them with both elbows on the armrests of his chair, his fingers interlaced in front of him. "As we all know I have been following the recent developments in the area of Rossotorres."

"Liberotorres." Kestral grinned.

"Liberotorres, then." Hakim gave her an almost amused look before his face changed back to a more serious expression. "I have brought to Her Majesty's attention a matter that strikes me as urgent. While most of the former Red Prince's territories were freed from his shackles peacefully, there remain a large number of renegade troops that occupy the remote villages and will not surrender to us. It seems that the Red Prince's troops still remain loyal to his rule."

Marcus thoughtfully rubbed his youthful chin. "We cannot drive them out?"

"No, I am afraid that we cannot. These villages are well protected by the surrounding mountains, and easy to hold. Our troops would suffer from steep mountains we do not know and small passages that do not allow for siege engines."

"Bah. The Red Prince's men are cowards. There is no honour in hiding away like old women and children!"

"I am inclined to agree, Thordal," Marcus said in a pondering tone, "but let us try to find a solution to this problem. Our troops would have to fight uphill, I assume?"

Hakim nodded and cautiously looked at Marcus. "However, there may be a solution, if you would listen to me for a moment."

Kestral folded her arms behind her head and stretched her legs. "Yeah, listen to the Janubian, he knows what he's doing." She chuckled in her usual rather cheerful way.

"Sure," Marcus agreed. "What is on your mind?"

There was a slight pause, then Lord Hakim stated: "We may be able to send Crimson Sabatt."

Everyone looked at him in an eerie silence.

Then all of the Knights seemed to regain their composure at exactly the same moment and started to speak simultaneously.

"No, don't listen to the Janubian!"

"You can't possibly mean that!" Marcus' voice rose above the others (along with a series of "BAH!"s from Thordal) and he very nearly dropped one of his gauntlets that he had been toying with.

Hakim found himself the centre of attention as the flabbergasted Knights stared at him. A position he didn't particularly enjoy. He could barely open his mouth to explain when Marcus cut him off.

"Wait … " The young Knight blinked in confusion. "Wait. You're saying that we," he looked at each of the other Knights, "should send the Red Prince's _right hand _that took us months to catch and who is finally locked up behind bars to meet up with _troops_ of armed soldiers still loyal to our _foe_? Did I _miss_ something?" Marcus managed to emphasise nearly every other word in his inquiry which made his confusion even more apparent.

Hakim nodded deliberately. "That is what I said. I am open to suggestions."

The young man by the mantle inhaled sharply. "For Crimson Sabatt I suggest a tree and a noose!"

Thordal's fist smashed into the backrest of his armchair. "Send her to my people, I say! We know how to deal with traitors!"

Alandra, who hadn't said a thing until now, slightly rose in her chair to look at Marcus, Kestral, Thordal and finally Hakim. "Please let him explain. I am curious as to why Lord Hakim believes this is a good idea."

"I believe that we can send Crimson Sabatt to negotiate with them. This may prevent violence and bloodshed." The Janubian quickly lifted his hand when Marcus tried to interpose and continued to speak. "I am aware that you will not be easily convinced of my plan, so please listen to my reasons. For one, Crimson Sabatt knows more of these territories than we do, which may lead to the discovery of an easier way to access these locations. Secondly, those troops pose no threat to us even if she decided to join them. And most importantly: It is not wise to use military force against the people who are still under the Red Prince's heel. We must convince them of his turpitude. Thus, Crimson Sabatt will negotiate in our service. It may be vital to demonstrate that their former leaders are our allies to prevent glorification of the Red Prince's rule and further uprisings among the settlers."

When he had ended his speech Hakim fastened his gaze on Marcus especially.

Alandra nodded slowly. "I can see your point. But what if she tries to escape or sabotage our agenda?"

"Which she will," Kestral stated laconically.

Marcus sighed but he had apparently listened closely and seemed to consider his fellow Knight's proposition. "I agree with you that this could work. Under different circumstances. Sabatt has fooled us too many times, and this would be the opportune time for her to escape."

"Which she will."

"I am not willing to take that risk, as tempting as it sounds. That woman is too dangerous to trust and possibly even capable of spreading more violence and civil unrest if she managed to slip away."

"Which she... oh, you get my point."

Hakim nodded, probably not in response to Kestral. "Those are the reasons I would much rather have her side with us than not. Crimson Sabatt is too skilled a manipulator to leave her unattended."

Marcus finally slumped into his chair. "Look, Hakim, I always valued your opinion but does this seem like a … wise idea? We have her in close custody until Her Majesty decides what is to be done with her. She doesn't do any harm this way."

Again, Hakim nodded in agreement. "This is one solution to it. While I am not certain that Crimson Sabatt would indeed not manage to escape even from our custody, I am convinced that she can be very valuable to us."

"And why would she help us?" asked Alandra with a quizzical look.

"Because she has no choice. It is either to help us, or –" The Southerner raised his brow, looking at Marcus. "A tree and the noose. She knows that."

"Kestral decided to help us back then," Alandra mused.

"Hey! I was a mercenary, doing the right thing for the right people, you know? Not some crimson bonny lass of insane evilness!" Kestral looked seriously heart-stricken that anyone would have the nerve to compare her with Crimson Sabatt.

"Besides," she added in a defiant voice, "I was never vile. Only … morally challenged."

This caused a chuckle among the Knights which helped to ease the tension.

Marcus gave another weary sigh. "I am still not convinced, but … you say she will do it?"

"Yes. Under certain conditions."

"And those would be?"

"Well." The Southerner gently stroked his beard as he often did when he contemplated. "Crimson Sabatt wishes to have an audience with Her Majesty."

They all nodded, secretly relieved that it would be something as mundane as this.

"And her palfrey."

"Her _horse_? How are we supposed to find Sabatt's horse?" Marcus stared at the Janubian in disbelief, accompanied by a helpless gesture of his hands.

Kestral uttered a cough and shifted in her armchair. "Well … I may be able to help." She cleared her throat. "I have it."

When four sets of eyes were locked on her she stated, with a grin and a shrug:

"What? It's a nice horse!"


	3. Cranky Smart Mouth

Two days later, a group of three riders left Vestholm in an eastward direction.

They left on an early autumn morning. The sun had long since lost its summery warmth and the birches shed their leaves to a colourful mosaic covering the cobblestoned road. Leaves in all shades of golden, green and fiery red softened the sound of their hoofbeats as the horses progressed down the road in an even trot.

The morning air was fresh, although it did little to lift Lord Marcus' mood. He wore his full battle armour save the helmet which was strapped to the side of his caparisoned charger. His tabard and cloak were of the same royal azure colour, adorned with the scarlet symbol of an eagle. The young Knight bore both his trusty sword and the short ranseur that could easily dismount an opponent.

Even Lady Alandra's palomino was partly barded and she, too, had equipped her heavy armour, though not a full set like Marcus. Strapped to her saddle were a rather impressive battle staff and sword.

Marcus turned to Sabatt, who rode to his left and to Alandra's right, thus between them.

The raven haired woman had turned out surprisingly well-adjusted once she was allowed out of confinement – the prison cell, anyway. The Knights made a point reminding their antagonist that while she may be allowed out of her cell it didn't mean she was no longer their prisoner. She displayed an almost oblivious indifference towards it all. Her demeanour during the past two days had been unobtrusive and tame. So tame, in fact, that the Knights suspected she already schemed against them; as was to be expected from her.

Granted, she bore no weapons and her mare was only caparisoned rather than barded; yet the all too familiar sight of her full regalia, complete with raven feathers and all, was extremely unsettling. Which was probably exactly what she wanted.

Marcus never let her out of his sight and made it his personal business to remind her that he would have no remorse stabbing her with sharp, pointy things, which he also kept out of her reach with meticulous precision.

"You will remain by my side or in my sight at all times," he said firmly. "If for once you are not in my sight, I will be forced to take more drastic measures to contain you."

"As you wish, Sir Knight." Crimson Sabatt bent her head in such servile obedience that it unnerved Marcus rather than put him at ease. He was completely disillusioned regarding the mission.

"You have no place to go, Sabatt. The settlers despise you, and our troops have orders to kill you on sight if they do not spot one of us with you."

Only after he said that he realised that this wasn't what he'd wanted it to sound like. He had inadvertently implied that their captive might get away after all.

Was that a hint of smugness on Sabatt's face?

He gave an angry snort.

Marcus was entirely determined to remain in control of the situation, or put an end to the former Red Prince's agent.

.

Shortly after the three eastbound travellers had disappeared out of sight from Vestholm, a lone rider passed the city gate. The horse maintained an easygoing pace as the rider followed the cobblestoned road in their direction without haste.

.

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><p>.<p>

The first day of their journey was as uneventful as had to be expected in their homeland of Westerlin. The unlikely trio's first designated destination on their way to Liberotorres was the Eastern Harbour, where a ship would take them to West Raudrlin, past the small adjacent islands that framed the Isle of Westerlin. The passage would take no longer than two days if the weather stayed calm. Marcus knew that they couldn't afford to waste more time as the passage across the ocean became more dangerous as autumn progressed. Westerlin's beautiful coastlines were subject to wild and unpredictable storms at this time of year. He hoped they would be able to succeed in their quest within time, so the passage back to Vestholm might still be possible. He had discussed this with the other Knights but there seemed to be no other possibility than to chance it. If all went according to plan they would be back within time.

Sabatt had proven surprisingly useful when she had mapped a route that saved as much time as possible, explaining to them exactly where short-cuts could be taken and how to find them. It was obvious, even to Marcus, that Lord Hakim had indeed been right about one thing at least; Sabatt knew most of Raudrlin and added much detail to the maps they had of the areas. Assuming, of course, she did not deceive them.  
>That seemed unlikely, however, as some of the routes provided by her perfectly explained how she had been able to move cross-country fast enough to meddle with them.<p>

Marcus was confident that they would make it back before winter and decided they could afford to rest in an inn not far from Eastern Harbour, boarding a ship first thing in the morning.

However, his rather decent mood was ruined shortly after the horses were taken care of.

Sabatt indignantly refused to share a room with Marcus.

"I decide who goes, with whom and when," he said firmly, beginning to advance upon Crimson Sabatt when she continued to object. As far as he was concerned, he had to keep an eye on that woman at all times and there would be no exception to that just because she _was_ a woman.

"Another punch in the face from the chivalrous Lord Marcus? Do your friends know you enjoy this sort of activity?" Sabatt used precisely the tone she knew would drive Marcus up the wall, and it was all too obvious that she intended nothing else. Her statement had the sole purpose to make a mess of him, and though Marcus knew that full well he felt unable to suppress the white-hot anger and mortal shame her malevolent words stirred within him. To insinuate he had to resort to pummel a woman... He clenched his hands almost painfully, short of losing control of his temper once again.

Lady Alandra rolled her eyes. It was so terribly obvious that Sabatt's only intention was to enrage Marcus. And terribly obvious that she would succeed.

"Marcus, I will share her room." she stated, tired of the constant bickering. There was no way those two would ever come to a peaceful agreement.

"I cannot let her out of my sight, there is no way I am going to leave her alone with you!"

"Oh, stop it, you two!" Alandra swiftly grabbed Sabatt by the arm and shoved her into a room before the latter had a chance to cause more misery.

She then turned to Marcus and smiled at him warmly. "Don't worry about me," she quietly said, "I'll be fine."

Marcus wasn't convinced. And it didn't help that the stunning beauty of her eyes took his breath away. Or that Alandra gently put her hand on his forearm.

He swallowed, then blurted out: "If you hurt her, Sabatt, I'm going to break your every bone! Do you understand?"

"Now, now. Not so violent, please, Lord Marcus."

Oh, how he hated that sickening mellow voice! He could almost hear her chuckle.

"I have already told you that she would not be harmed – I gave you my word, remember?"

Alandra's eyes widened with surprise.

"Oh. She didn't know that, did she? My bad." Sabatt chuckled and finally disappeared further inside the room.

"Marcus, is that true?"

He stifled an insult directed towards the now empty doorway. He would definitely stab that woman someday, and someday soon.

"Yes, it is." he admitted, feeling a little uneasy. "Back at Tios, when I was certain that my life in Vestholm would be forfeit." Marcus didn't enjoy remembering that utterly embarrassing episode of his life, nevertheless he continued to explain. "Sabatt caught me horse-less and unarmed, too far away from Tios to return in time for the trial." He paused, smiling nervously "It was my condition that y- … the Knights of Vestholm would not be harmed."*

_That sure sounded convincing, Marcus_, he thought and cleared his throat. For some reason, those bright eyes always turned him into a stammering fool. He felt terrible, surmising that Alandra must believe him to be as sharp as the average brick.

Alandra looked into his blue eyes for just a moment longer and then squeezed his arm.

No matter how strange that revelation sounded, she was absolutely certain that she understood. "Thank you." she said softly, smiling. "And now rest, Marcus. Do not worry. I, too, can break some heads if I must."

Marcus nodded reluctantly and stepped back from the doorway to signal his retreat. "I will be sleeping right here outside your door. Just call me and I will be there within the second."

"I know, Marcus." Alandra gave him another of those beautiful (terribly beautiful, he thought) smiles before she closed the door. Marcus' knees felt weak and wobbly.

.

If anything, Sabatt's revelation had given Alandra a burst of confidence. Her worries were all but gone, replaced by a warmth she had no name for. She never admitted to anyone that she had been terribly afraid to be alone with the woman who had fooled her so many times. It hadn't been an issue at the castle where that vile woman had had no means of hurting her other than by the occasional snide remark. This was different.  
>Sometimes, in the still of the night, she still saw that abysmal sneer and winced at the terrible snarl of out-lashing steel, seeking to tear the flesh from her bones and spill her blood. She vividly remembered those terrible moments of flight and the innermost fear for her life. If not for Marcus …<p>

Now, she calmly looked at Crimson Sabatt who indifferently stared out of the window next to her bed, hands on her back.  
>Alandra shook her head, smiling, thinking of Marcus and in too good a mood to put up with the sulky woman. She tossed her bag onto the bed and sat down next to it to unlace her boots.<br>She knew Sabatt was watching, although Alandra had turned her back towards her.

Still, she jumped up startled when Sabatt's voice sounded right next to her ear, close enough to make her heart skip a beat. It made her skin crawl and chilled her to the bone.

"Well, well, well." Sabatt's chiding voice was barely audible and absolutely haunting. The voice from Alandra's nightmares. "Still too naive. Never turn your back towards someone you cannot trust."

Alandra felt her anger start to boil once she recovered from the initial shock. She should have seen that coming, she thought grimly. There was no way Sabatt would _not _try to thoroughly spook her tonight.

Alandra briskly faced the woman. The two opposed each other with their eyes.

"And you are still too predictable, Crimson Sabatt. Do that again and I will shackle you to your bed. Now, step back," she commanded, suddenly very calm again.

Sabatt didn't budge. "Aren't you afraid someone will murder you in your sleep?" she enquired, her tone deceptively soft contrary to those unsettling eyes, appearing a pale predatory yellow in the light.

For once, Alandra was not impressed. "No, I am not. Now step back and stop being so ludicrous." She turned away to tend to her bag.

Sabatt chuckled softly and complied, surprisingly conceding a small victory to Alandra. "I see. So there is actually one not so dim-witted amongst your priceless duo."

Alandra paid her little attention and removed her cloak, revealing a shoulder-length mop of slightly curled dark-blonde hair.  
>"I know why you are doing this," she stated, "And I want you to consider this, Sabatt: Lord Marcus might become angry enough to behead you on the spot, and I am not sure I might want to hold him back."<p>

"Intriguing." Sabatt arched an eyebrow and cocked her head a little to the side to give Alandra a curious look. Not enough to actually look terribly impressed, but to hint her attention. Did Alandra actually try to _reason_ with her? Why, that was … new.

Alandra continued, unpacking her bag. "The situation is tense enough as it is, would you please stop winding Marcus up? It is not going to make our trip easier if he clings to his sword in case he has to use it on you. We will be required to travel together for a long time, and I would much appreciate it if you stopped getting on everyone's bad side."

Alandra raised an eyebrow as well. "If you really want to challenge me, then by all means do it now and get it over with."

She was definitely impressed now. Sabatt had not expected Alandra to berate her. Much less that she would openly confront her. While she found that terribly fascinating it also irked her that Alandra completely disregarded her supremacy.  
>Perhaps she ought to take her up on the offer and show the little woman that being 'ludicrous' was the least she could do.<p>

Crimson Sabatt allowed her face to express a careful mixture of arrogance and feigned interest. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a disposition to being … difficult?"

Alandra shrugged. "Probably as often as people tell you you're an arrogant, cranky smart-mouth, prone to excessive violence."

Sabatt was dumbstruck.

Alandra savoured the moment, then suddenly turned paler than the bed sheet in front of her. She was not sure what would happen now, if perhaps Sabatt would charge at her. She felt her reckless confidence wither and be replaced by a sudden, terrible fear that Marcus might not be able to save her in time if Sabatt really attacked her now.

Lady Alandra was prepared to make a run for the door when Crimson Sabatt did the one thing she didn't expect: She laughed heartily. It didn't sound entirely unpleasant. "Touché."

Sabatt then flicked some stray hair over her shoulder and elegantly pivoted on her heel to walk to her own bed, signalling their quarrel was over. For now, anyway.

Alandra took a sharp breath, only now noticing her lungs were empty. Her heart raced and her hands trembled. She felt a little weak in the knees, but she did not allow herself to falter now. Not now, not when she knew she had won an important battle in the constant struggle with Crimson Sabatt.

"Just answer me one question," she demanded after a short pause which she used to catch her breath and control her tension.

"Yes?"

"Are you actually on our side?" The blonde woman tried to catch a glimpse of Crimson Sabatt's expression, but she remained poker-faced.

"What do you believe, Lady Alandra?" Sabatt counter-questioned in a pleasant, if not cheerful voice.

What an interesting turn of events, she mused, the woman truly had the guts to tangle with her. Maybe there was indeed more to this mouse and her friends than met the eye. Why, there ought to be - why else would the shrewd southerner from Janub serve a petty kingdom ruled by a lenient queen? Maybe said kingdom wasn't so petty any more (Sabatt cynically commended the Red Prince, wherever _he _may be), but it was only a matter of time until a stronger leader would claim Vestholm.  
>A stronger and more ruthless leader. One who knew these oh so pious Knights from the inside out. They appeared too noble for their own good; it would be their downfall.<p>

Alandra considered the question. "I think," she responded as she continued to ready herself for going to sleep, "that you probably are. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You will call me a fool and too trusting but I believe in justice above all else, and that everyone deserves a second chance." She slid under the covers and proceeded to get comfortable in her bed, unmistakeably not afraid of any nightly attacks. "So - are you?"

Sabatt, lazily sitting on her own bed, seemed to ponder this for a while. Yes, definitely too noble for their own good. And ever too trusting. Yet she was intrigued.

"I am," she eventually answered. "For the moment."

.

* * *

><p>* Note: These references are now outdated, this scene was written before <em>"The Mathematics of Deceit<em>" received a major update.


	4. A Glorious Mess

"No, Marcus." Alandra spoke in a pleasant, soft voice, "Not like that." The expression on the unhooded part of her face revealed that she was in a light mood as she stood next to Marcus, arms folded and leaned onto the ship's rail. The winds that tugged at her cape bore the faint smell of salt water and the sky presented itself in a bright blue that was unusual for this time of autumn. It was a beautiful day, and Alandra's mood reflected it.

"How do you bond with your soldiers, Marcus?" She smiled, a hint of good-natured mockery in her voice.

Lord Marcus idly brushed some hair out of his face. It simply wouldn't stay behind his head where it belonged, which slightly annoyed him. "My soldiers? Well, I train with them." He put his face up against the wind to get rid of the annoying strands.

The ship was well on its way to Raudrlin, ploughing through the ocean waves that would occasionally spray high enough to reach them even up at the rail.

"Exactly, Marcus." Alandra laughed as she watched Marcus' desperate attempts to tame his long hair.

He furrowed his brow deeply. "I wish _I _had a hood glued to my head," he commented drily. "You're saying I should do what, train with Sabatt?"

The woman nodded her approval. "Yes, I think that you should."

"Have you talked to Lord Hakim recently? That sounds like one of his crazy suggestions." Marcus smirked wryly at her. He was relaxed and in a similar light mood. It would take more than crazy suggestions to ruin his mood today.

Alandra returned his smile and nodded slightly. "I am crazy then?" Her smile turned to a grin. "As Hakim would put it: It may serve to ease the tension between you two. You're at each other's throats all the time, I don't want this to turn into a full-blown fight once Sabatt manages to taunt you enough."

Marcus uttered a "Hmph."

Alandra chuckled. "To further impersonate Lord Hakim..." The young woman straightened her a back a little but not enough to actually give up her comfortable position. Trying her best to speak in a low, stern voice she said: "There are various breeds of people in this world. Some are born to lead, there are those born to follow, and there are those who live in constant strife. When focused with a purpose they are revolutionaries, but when at a loose end they are nuisances at best, and dangers at worst. In other words, we must keep her busy or she will keep _us_ on our toes."

It was Marcus' turn to chuckle now. He nodded, wiping yet more hair out of his face. "Lord Hakim indeed. You're not going to grow a beard now, are you? You already have the hood."

Alandra burst into laughter, playfully slapping at his arm. "I might, just to irritate you! I know you have been waiting for the chance to get even with Sabatt, so why don't you? Believe me, she will be much less annoying once you best her in a fair fight. I don't think she knows just how capable you are."

So she thought he was capable! It took Lord Marcus' entire self control not to burst into a wide grin while he puffed out his chest with pride. "Oh, so you believe I stand a chance, Lady Alandra?" He chuckled slightly, enjoying their light-hearted banter immensely.

"I don't know." Alandra gave up her position at the rail to thoroughly size him up from head to toe whilst she furrowed her brow in an over-exaggerated fashion to express concern. "I believe you have put on weight."

"Alandra!"

Marcus laughed heartily when she looked at him with sparkling eyes. If only they had more of these happy moments, he thought. "Is that what you desire from me then, Lady Alandra? Shall I battle the wicked Red Prince's agent for your honour?" Marcus quirked his eyebrow, his stance no less than that of the noble Knight he was. Oh yes, he enjoyed it immensely.

Alandra gave him a pat on the chest, chuckling. "Not for my honour, but for our peace's sake. And please, Marcus, do try to not remove her head or other vital parts."

He bowed deeply, the perfect image of a gentleman. "At your bidding, Milady." He strode off.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

By the time both duellists firmly looked at each other across the gently heaving wooden planks of the upper deck, the entire crew had assembled in an uneven circle to watch what promised to be a great spectacle. Various faces in different states of dirtiness expectantly turned from one contestant to the second, eager to witness Lord Marcus fight against the tall foreign woman that most of them only knew by reputation – which was fearsome enough to guarantee an epic tale for months to come. One of the more unfortunate sailors would also remember that Crimson Sabatt bore her reputation for a reason. He had the severely bruised jaw to prove that leering at a tall, mysterious woman was not necessarily a good idea.

Someone had provided two crude wooden sticks of roughly the same length that Marcus announced to be their training weapons. Despite the audience, he had not actually wanted to cause such a ruckus. Unfortunately, the ship's carpenter whom he had asked for some kind of sparring swords hadn't been of the quiet type, and things took their natural course when an over-excited sailor announced that the legendary Lord Marcus would battle the vicious Crimson Sabatt right on their ship, and free admission to all!

Marcus knew without a doubt that he had made a grave mistake. Sabatt stood in an icy silence which boded ill for all concerned. Marcus did not require to read her thoughts to understand that Crimson Sabatt would not accept the situation he had inadvertently put her into.

It was too late to call it off now, or his own loss of face would be just as bad. He grimaced and looked at the flimsy wooden stick in his hands. He briefly wondered if someone as furious as Sabatt could actually manage to stab him through the chest with it, and he soberly concluded that he did not want to find out. Why him, why did it always have to be him?

.

The duel started out slowly. Sabatt took her time to observe her opponent. She was entirely determined to win this ridiculous farce and possibly even maim the insolent buffoon in the process. She was at a severe disadvantage, which wouldn't make this exactly easy. Marcus was about the same height and had a slightly wider range. Her main objective was thus to stay out of his range if she didn't want to be overtaken in an instant. The Knight naturally possessed greater physical strength, so she could only hope to wear him out or slow him down enough to beat him silly - which she positively craved. He would bleed for trying to make her the laughing-stock of these disgusting grubby peasants. No matter her words, this was definitely not part of any agreement and she would not allow this humiliation.

Sabatt kept her malicious glare glued to her opponent, merely staying out of his reach for the moment. The ridiculous wooden stick felt too light in her grip, she would need to adjust to that. She extended her concentration to the deck below her, carefully sensing as much as she could of the material through the soles of her boots. She could tell that Marcus entirely relied on his strength and paid little attention to such details. Of course, he wouldn't know how if he only battled in his heavy armour, as seemed to be the case. He didn't wear it now, but daily routine was not something he shook off easily as she knew well. Which meant his senses weren't nearly as heightened as hers and he'd make some mistake or the other if she methodically taunted him.

It remained a very slow and not particularly entertaining match for several minutes. Sabatt couldn't move in close enough to score a single hit and Marcus found that she would always back away from him, but never in a fashion that allowed him to trap her against any obstacles like he had planned. He sullenly acknowledged that the woman knew how to fight – but it would take forever at this rate. The young Knight contemplated to feign a careless opening in his defence just so the duel would be over with, but no, he couldn't simply let her win. He'd look a fool in front of the eager spectators who celebrated him a hero. His face darkened as he tightened the grip around his 'sword'. He couldn't lose, but he could go for a quick and dirty victory. That was what he had in mind, anyway. Unfortunately for him he was merely a novice in the art of quick and dirty fights – Sabatt was a master. Her stick came crashing into the back of his knees with such force it broke her weapon in two and nearly swiped him off his feet, while her knee sought to make painful contact with his left kidney, but missed.

Marcus reacted by instinct and got a firm hold of his opponent before she managed to manoeuvre out of his reach. What followed was an awkward move that neither of them had anticipated: The powerful momentum sent Sabatt straight to the ground with Marcus toppling onto her, pinning her down by his weight.

A hubbub of jeering voices, whistles and cat calls rang across the ship as countless men bawled out their amusement.

Alandra could do little but throw her hands up in horror and cover her face, mouthing a soundless "Oh, Marcus".

They glared at each other, face to face in an utterly embarrassing position. Cheering, whooping men provided the perfect setting for Marcus to want to die of shame.

"You. Are. So. Dead." Sabatt announced in a low hiss, an unmistakeably terminal 'this is it' expression on her face. Marcus entirely believed it. His face was flushed with mortal embarrassment. He desperately wished for some kind of miracle that would put this horrible situation to an end, any old iceberg or meteor shower would do.

"Look, Sabatt," he rasped hastily in a low voice, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on display, can we please just forget this ever happened?" His voice was desperately pleading with her. "I didn't mean to-"

"Get. Off. Of. Me. Now."

"Of course, sorry." Marcus scrambled back on his feet, voicing another apology. He frantically wiped his clammy hands on his trousers prior to reaching out his right hand in a peaceable offer to help Sabatt up. He received a dastardly glare.

Sabatt stood, and a hush fell.

Marcus ran his hand through his thick, brown hair, desperately trying to come up with the right words to defuse the situation. In utter silence, Sabatt elegantly brought her right hand up to her chest and bowed to him. He didn't think anyone had ever made a bow seem more disdainful. "Congratulations, Lord Marcus. You win." The sheer spite in that voice could not be concealed by its deceptively candid tone. The aggravating silence only increased this effect. No one dared to move when Sabatt smoothly stepped back with her eyes locked on Marcus, straightened her back and pivoted towards the after-deck. No one except one incurable sailor who earned a black eye that went along nicely with his bruised jaw.

.

Alandra quietly walked up to Marcus, her pale face conveniently hidden by the magic of her hood.

"She is going to kill me," he announced bleakly.

"Of that I have no doubt," Alandra responded in a similar fashion.

They looked at the stairs where Crimson Sabatt had disappeared.

Marcus groaned. "Oh, why is it always me?"

"I don't know, Marcus, I honestly don't know."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Alandra half-turned, her hand lightly on the knob of the cabin door she had just opened after the permission to enter.

"Should I guard my back again?" She smiled carefully. It was entirely possible that the woman from Gueranna would assassinate her after the shameful duel one hour ago.

"Always," a pleasant voice said in response.

Alandra quietly closed the door behind her and regarded Crimson Sabatt in a friendly fashion. The sight that unfolded to her was extraordinary. Sabatt lounged in the hammock that easily took the most part of the small cabin, an open book in her left hand and a half-eaten biscuit in the other. Next to her, neatly sitting atop a simple wooden crate that served as a side table, were a cup and saucer as well as a pot of tea that filled the otherwise crude cabin with an unexpected lush fragrance. Alandra curiously absorbed the dominating presence that unmistakeably claimed this room, small as it may be. It appeared that Vestholm's sworn enemy had entirely recovered from the previous humiliation and was back to her normal lofty self.

Sabatt looked at her, brow arched, amber eyes observing the younger woman.

"I came here to apologise for the horrible, inappropriate behaviour of the ship's crew." Alandra cleared her throat. "… and Lord Marcus. Again."

Hearing this, Sabatt's brow rose even higher. "I see."

"He knows it was stupid, he never meant to ridicule you, Lady Sabatt. It was supposed to be a friendly match, not … well, that." She smirked slightly, observing Sabatt's face. "You know Marcus, he is just … unlucky sometimes."

Sabatt's brow dropped a sliver. "Really. And you expect me to accept your apology."

Alandra dared another smirk, nodding in agreement. "I should hope that you do. I offer you a deal." She looked at the black-haired woman expectantly. She, too, had learned a thing or two about the enemy during the past months.

"A deal," Crimson Sabatt echoed drily, shutting her book with a sharp thud.

"Yes, a deal." Alandra nodded once again, carefully making her proposal. "You refrain from trying to murder Lord Marcus for his ill-fated mishap – or any other reason, really. And I will make sure that he doesn't … well, fall on you."

An expression of regal thoughtfulness on her face, Sabatt nodded to herself. "Well, well," she said bemusedly, "Indeed quite considerate of you, Lady Alandra."

"It was a glorious mess, wasn't it?" Alandra chuckled slightly, extending her hand towards Sabatt. "Do we have a deal?"

Crimson Sabatt removed herself from the hammock gracefully, putting the book aside. "Does this deal allow for the occasional non-lethal reminder?" she asked with a glint of mischievous humour in her eyes.

Alandra shook her head. "No."

"Very well then, one cannot have everything." They shook hands, for once not at odds, and Alandra felt hopeful that today's disastrous duel hadn't been entirely for nothing.


	5. Good And Evil

_Evil's for me - you can have good!  
>Doesn't suit me to be Robin Hood!<br>S'easier by far, from the way that things are,  
>To remain good 'n' evil<br>Than try to be evil and good!_

__.

_Two days later, Raudrlin_

.

Three horses followed the trade route in an eastward direction. They were well towards the Red Prince's lands, the city of Tios to the south and just behind them. The weather was gradually becoming warmer the further they left the coast behind, and most trees still carried their leaves. It was safe to assume that the weather would remain reasonably pleasant, although they could spot rain clouds in the distance.

Not a single word had been spoken regarding the incident on the ship, and Marcus was infinitely grateful for this. Tios was already a big enough burden on his mind right now, although it wasn't nearly as close as he felt it was. Was there even a place in this world he had no embarrassing memories of?

He sighed and shook his head, then looked at Alandra's back as she rode in front of him, next to Crimson Sabatt. He had not the nerve to interfere with them, although a tiny voice in the back of his mind urged him to do so. Alandra had briefly told him that she believed they would get along after all if given the chance.

_Right_, thought Marcus, but he never told her of the strong doubts he had regarding this assumption. He was simply set on protecting Alandra from any dangers and see to it that their mission would be successful.

Alandra, meanwhile, regarded the Guerannan woman riding next to her with a look of friendly curiosity which was deliberately ignored by Crimson Sabatt who had her nose in a book and appeared to be perfectly content to let her mare keep track of the way they were heading.

Alandra of Westerlin had never met a person who read on horseback. Truth be told none of her acquaintances seemed much interested in literature, certainly not Marcus and Kestral. It delighted her somewhat to realise that she had found something she had in common with their former adversary, and she already envisioned lengthy conversations about topics that did not include either warfare or hunting. As much as she didn't want to appear prying she tried to catch a glance at whatever Sabatt was reading.

"Well, have a look if you must," commented Crimson Sabatt after more prying glances from Alandra who cleared her throat.

"I tried hard not to give that impression. Forgive me, I was just curious."

"Curiosity is a valuable trait." Despite her words, Sabatt didn't seem all too thrilled when she handed the book to Alandra who immediately had a look at the page which was presented to her. She furrowed her brow. "Oh, is this Guerannan? I'm afraid I cannot make much sense of the words."

Sabatt shook her head and snatched her book again. "Talk about sense. Tell me: do you always learn your lessons the hardest way possible, Lady Alandra?"

Alandra gave her a puzzled look, put off by Sabatt's suddenly belligerent response.

"Not even you could possibly be this gullible." Sabatt continued, now evidently amused. "Does this come as a surprise to you? Assuming I had ill intentions", she chuckled slightly at her own joke, "it would have taken me less than two days to completely win you over, starting with our delightful conversation on the ship – even if _you _of all people should know better than to trust me so carelessly."  
>Her expression turned to one of smug arrogance. "While I certainly find your attitude thoroughly endearing, you must think of Lord Marcus and your kingdom. Someone ought to be disappointed you keep making the same mistakes. I have no interest in bonding with you."<p>

Alandra's face altered as she clenched her hands around the reins. She had apparently been stupid once again, when all she wanted was to be friendly. And endearing, how dare this woman call her that? She was a Knight of Vestholm, and had been longer than the others, even Marcus!

"And you are telling me this now – why?" Alandra blurted out, eyes ablaze. "Does it delight you to humble me? Is there some wicked satisfaction in destroying the faith I put in you? I truly believed that we could overcome the bitter enmity of old. I stand corrected. You are a truly detestable person, Crimson Sabatt, and although it is not upon myself to pronounce your final judgement, you will receive no less than you deserve."  
>Alandra paused briefly, glaring at the antagonist of old with a fire in her eyes that originated from her very soul. Her eyes had turned into mirrors of pure and righteous justice. She no longer contained what she had wished to cry out for so long, and her words came in no uncertain manner as she launched into a passionate speech.<p>

"Your manipulations turned our fellow Lord Elias away from everything that is good and just. Your duplicity has ruined countless lives and ended as many. You murdered Lord Fanshaw simply to ruin Marcus' reputation. People are but pawns to use at your own disposal in your wicked games. You are mistaken if you believe we have forgotten this, Sabatt – we offered you a chance to redeem yourself, and I offered you my counsel and my aid. Decide for yourself if you consider this _endearing_."

If Lady Alandra's passionate harangue had any effect on Sabatt whatsoever, she expertly dismissed it.

"Now, now. You give me too much credit. The Red Prince _did_ have his moments."

Alandra finally concluded in an icy quiet voice, her mouth firmly set in a hard line: "I humour you."

Sabatt responded by only her trademark sneer that indicated she knew she had made her point, and made it well.

"Do as you will, then," came Alandra's terse remark.

Self-absorbed, obstinate, arrogant, unteachable. No, Alandra thought bitterly, that woman hadn't changed. And while she, Alandra, had believed they had come to associate on better terms and on a more personal level by now, Sabatt had clearly not been serious about any of it.

Even as she gently tugged at the reins to allow her palfrey to fall back beside Marcus there appeared to be a well calculated insult in the way Sabatt's mare swished her tail.

Marcus held his tongue, but his relief was written on his face. Sabatt was dangerous, and he had been uncomfortable with how close Alandra was becoming with her.  
>It removed a lead weight from his chest to know that the Red Prince's agent had no obvious plans of coaxing Lady Alandra into some clever ploy to help her make her escape, or worse.<br>Marcus suddenly regretted that he hadn't spent his time at the Red Prince's draughty keep learning more about their rivals; it would be beneficial to predict just how far Sabatt would go, and by which means. Marcus sighed inwardly as he elaborated on his thoughts.

Just how ruthless was she actually of her own accord?

There were too many open questions, and once again he regretted agreeing with Hakim's scheme.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Gran Lorcha was a small and peaceful village nestled between fascinating rock formations that served as a natural city wall and protection against the weather, as seldom as it ever became harsh in the pleasant, warm climate of Gueranna. Cypress and olive trees framed the road that led towards the village in gentle turns.

The air smelled of late summer and warm days in the sun; autumn had not yet arrived at this sheltered place. Pastures along the road contained a large number of healthy-looking sheep, flecking the landscape with stipples of white, brown and black. The two Darion Knights found it hard to believe that it had only been mere months since this beautiful country was freed from Crimson Sabatt's merciless oppression.  
>Settlers were busy in the fields, occasionally hailing them with a wave or a friendly greeting, although Lady Alandra noticed that some of them were not nearly as friendly when they noticed the third rider amongst them.<p>

These Settlers, of all people, had learned to fear Sabatt and the feel of her lash.

Her once dominating Crimson Citadel was in plain view, perched high on a mountain to the north-east, and although abandoned a constant visible reminder of the abuse her subjects had suffered not so long ago.

The Settlers of Gueranna were anything but a violent people; they enjoyed the life of peace that had come with the Knights of Vestholm and felt deep gratitude towards them and their kingdom. Yet it may have been only this gratitude and respect which kept the Settlers from attacking Crimson Sabatt on the spot. A few months were not nearly enough to forget the pain she had inflicted upon them and their neighbours – it would take much longer than that to make them forget the years under that woman's heel.

A cluster of Gran Lorcha Settlers had abandoned their fields and pastures to follow the riders as they approached the centre of the settlement, where more bustling Settlers looked up from their routines to watch their arrival.

Marcus and Alandra had merely meant to pass through the village, fill up their supplies and continue on the road that took them further to the east and into the Red Prince's heartland, however, the quickly assembling crowd of Settlers would make this a rather futile attempt, although none were specifically blocking their path.  
>The marketplace was filled with people, their disapproval and, in some cases, glares of open violence created a feeling of very palpable discomfort.<p>

Marcus turned his head to look at Alandra, who was close behind, carefully observing the Settlers with what must have been honest surprise about their behaviour.

Sabatt was stone-faced as usual. Her reaction was bland nonchalance as though the Settlers' existence had been removed from her mind entirely. If anything, her refusal to acknowledge what was going on around her served to further enrage the Settlers.

"Ya se finita!"

They formed an angry crowd armed with fists and an arrangement of various tools, shooting her menacing glares of utter contempt that had ripened during Sabatt's reign.

"Abajo il Principe Rosso!"

The Settlers dared the unthinkable: they rebelled against Crimson Sabatt.

"Abajo Crimson Sabatt!"

Marcus and Alandra shared an apprehensive look. This would turn into a full blown lynch mob. Marcus groped for his shield that was strapped to his horse.

Not even Sabatt could ignore their impertinence any longer when an array of ready pitchforks pointed towards her. The former Red Prince's agent glowered at the Settlers and tried to scowl them into silence with an echo of her former power over them, but they would not cower and they did not budge.

Crimson Sabatt knew then she was in trouble. A grope to her saddle proved as fruitless as was to be expected; she had no sword.

"Libertà per los Colonos!"

"Lasciateci soli!" A fish was flung into the direction of Crimson Sabatt, although it missed her by a great deal.

This broke the charm that had kept the Settlers at bay.

The Gran Lorcha Settlers didn't suffer through a time of hunger, judged by the sheer amount of vegetables that were pelted towards Sabatt like heavy rain. Even a live chicken was flung towards her and ended up making a noisy escape through the crowd, madly flapping its wings and losing feathers on the way.

Sabatt's skittish, doe-eyed mare sidled about nervously and looked as if she was about to bolt. Sabatt, too, suddenly had a terrible desire to escape, although her angry face didn't give it away.

Marcus quickly pulled his horse next to her to shield Sabatt from the Settlers' fury, joined by Alandra who did the same to her right.

A stray lettuce bounced off Marcus' shield and ended up among the squishy salad that had assembled beneath the hooves of their horses, much to their delight.

.

"Settlers of Gran Lorcha!" It was Alandra, her voice rang loud and clear and so forceful it put everyone to silence. One of the horses snorted and noisily chewed a carrot.

"Have you abandoned all virtue? Let him who is without sin cast the first stone! I understand that your anger at Crimson Sabatt knows no bounds, however she has not come here to terrorise you further but to aid us cleanse the earth of the remainders of the Red Prince's brutal injustice!" Lady Alandra appeared radiant with vigour of both body and mind and it came as no surprise that her cloak, touched by a timely ray of sun, beamed with light.

Marcus nodded tersely and his posture was that of a nobleman as he looked at the Settlers, men and women, one by one, perched up high on his impressive charger. This was not the man who tended to put himself into embarrassing situations or who fell over his own feet. This was Lord Marcus of Challia, Knight to boot.

"'Tis true! Lady Sabatt stands on our side as our ally. Her crimes are not forgotten, but this is not the time of revenge but for amends! If you raise your hand against Crimson Sabatt, then you raise your hand against us as well! Let it be known that her reign of terror is over, and that she is under our protection for as long as we have a common cause! The kingdom of Westerlin is based on a standard of honour, decency and trust, and we _have_ reason to trust in Sabatt's sincerity, even if _that _isn't very easy to believe, I understand."

The young man gave a chuckle, swaying his head to scan the crowd until he found the Settlers' reactions to his speech satisfactory.

"If _we _can trust an enemy of old to aid us, then surely you can put your trust in us as you have always done, people of Gueranna. You have witnessed our deeds and the vanquishing of the Red Prince! Let us all stand together and end his reign for good! Let's drive his minions out of Gueranna, together!"

Their cheers were ear-splitting as the Settlers hailed their Knights and their Queen, the hands in the air and no longer set on disposing their waste in the direction of Sabatt who… blinked.

.

What were they doing?

Had anyone paid attention to her at that moment, they would have witnessed a rare expression of utter bewilderment on Crimson Sabatt's face. Were it possible, this would have been the moment for her to hit the mental 'STOP' button and rewind the last couple of minutes to confirm what had just happened.

She was truly and entirely at a loss, and that definitely didn't happen very often.

Sabatt was an intelligent person and by no means devoid of a considerably normal range of human emotions, but there were certain limits to her understanding.

She could easily dish out any old treason, she killed without remorse, she was entirely capable of wrecking havoc upon entire kingdoms, but one thing she failed to comprehend were Marcus and Alandra.

She had not expected this.

Sabatt scowled – she had to snap out of this pathetic stupor, and fast!

She glared at Marcus who overlooked the marketplace in a calm and content manner from the back of his charger, suddenly so very secure in his power.

They were weak, not she!

She looked at Alandra who regarded the cheering crowd with a dazzling, disarming smile as she patted the neck of her palfrey.

They were vulnerable, not she!

Sabatt's face was an icy mask now.

They meant nothing.

She would… they wouldn't... not some petty… argh!

Much to her dismay, Crimson Sabatt realised that her mental rant just wouldn't come and that she was, for some reason, unable to formulate her dire revenge on the Westerlings. It was irritating, to say the least.

It was then that Sabatt finally realised that the clever Janubian and his Queen had planned this all along – well, _that _Knight was certainly a rare and pleasant blending of a keen intellect and most intriguing prowess.

…

_"Quid pro quo, dear rival Knight. What is in it for me?" _

_"I am not willing to negotiate with you," Lord Hakim said. "You shall find this proposal beneficial to both parties. We need not discuss any former properties or titles you acquired in service of the Red Prince, those are for naught."_

_Sabatt chuckled and brought her face closer to the metal bars that separated them, inquisitive in doing so.  
>"So appears to be your offer. Do explain yourself, Knight of Fools, if you wish to sustain my interest in this proposal."<em>

_"What my Queen offers will be revealed once you have been successful in your mission, or indeed sooner if the task receives your best attention – as I expect it would."_

_"Now, now, riddles do not make a particularly interesting bait, don't you think?"_

_"Yet you are interested." Hakim simply concluded, "because a mind is a terrible thing to waste. You no longer have obligations to your former liege and no fate but your eventual demise at the hands of my Queen." His brow rose a sliver. "Hardly a satisfactory situation for one with a keen intellect and a fiercely independent streak."_

_Again, she chuckled. "So you offer me indeed nothing but a few minutes of wasted time, albeit enjoyably spent. Still you expect me to accept your mysterious proposal." Sabatt stood tall, facing Lord Hakim. _

_"Your decision, Crimson Sabatt?"_

_"I will consider your offer."_

"_There is no need for consideration; there is only one wise choice." _

"_But of course. Did you seriously expect I should allow you the final say, Southerner?" There was just a hint of humour in Sabatt's eyes. "I will give you notice in due time."_

_A wry smile seemed to play at the corner of Hakim's lips as he inclined his head. Sabatt bowed courteously, and he left._

…

Here she was, her properties and titles removed from her, amongst a violent crowd of grubby Settlers and pious Vestholm Knights, and she finally understood.

This was her test, and her reward. _A posteriori – _ Whoever said being evil was easy?

"_Do you understand the significance of values in a Knight of this kingdom?" - _She did now, thank you very much.

Who was she to resist a queen with the the power of an empire?

She had grown tired of the Red Prince's incomprehension and refusal to address her properly long ago, so maybe the Westerlings had actually done her a favour by disposing of him and his unruly Settlers for her.

Besides... Alandra, that one wouldn't be able to fight her way out of a paper bag. She probably only wore her armour to protect herself against Lord Marcus' clumsiness. Someone ought to teach her a thing or two, lest she decided to play little riding hood again and go meet a big bad wolf in the woods. She couldn't let that happen, now could she?

Honour, decency and trust, oh well.

All things considered, maybe that Westerlin love, peace and harmony business wasn't so bad.

Truth be told, Sabatt was the kind of person to be inexorably devoted to a cause if it managed to spark her interest – and sustain it – , no questions asked. Whether it be just or not, she was hard-minded and ruthless enough to simply not care as long as it provided an entertaining challenge – and monetary benefits, of course.

But mostly, a challenge.

Like the trickster Janubian and the dangerous games he liked to play.

Two could play such games, and boy would she give him a run for his money! This was but the first round.

.

When Crimson Sabatt burst into a creepy cackle, Marcus and Alandra looked at each other with an expression of sheer confusion. They watched in a dumbstruck silence as a madly chuckling Sabatt wheeled her mount around and set off at a smart clip towards the gate, oblivious to anyone's presence, her mare prancing and dancing a silly local flamenco in reflection of some deranged mood that everyone else failed to fathom.

.

Marcus sighed and drove his charger to a trot, as did Alandra. "What is she on about _now_?"

"I don't know, Marcus, but we better catch up with her before we have to pry her out of that citadel again."

They departed from Gran Lorcha with the shout of a single exuberant "Olé!" acclaiming for the unexpected performance.

Their horses were well towards the gate when a voice called out to them: "Quit loitering about, Knights, we have noble deeds to do!"

.

She was Crimson Sabatt and she would not yield.

Only alter her plans – at most.

.

_The key thing about good 'n' evil  
>Each man has to choose<br>Heaven 'n' Hell  
>Is a helluva gamble to lose! <em>

_._


	6. Dangerous Games

_Everybody's playing the game  
>But nobody's rules are the same<br>Nobody's on nobody's side  
>Better learn to go it alone<br>Recognise you're out on your own  
>Nobody's on nobody's side<em>

.

The days following their departure from Gran Lorcha were as uneventful as Lord Marcus couldn't have hoped. It made him all the warier.

If there was one lesson he had thoroughly learned it was that life would never go easy on him; and whenever things seemed to be too good to be true there was a very likely chance that they were**.**

As opposed to Alandra he did not enjoy the peaceful summer landscape or the marvellous, brilliant blue sky.

He did not enjoy the smell of lemon trees or the nightly songs of crickets.

And most certainly he did not enjoy the docile, sickeningly demure behaviour of their previously bothersome company.

He knew Crimson Sabatt was up to something. He knew _she_ knew that _he_ knew she was up to something and she dared him to find her out with little sardonic glances from the corner of her eye whenever Alandra wasn't watching.

Alandra was becoming a bit of a problem when it came to their prisoner (Marcus felt the need to remind her of this fact every so often).

The two women had become downright chatty with each other in a way that excluded Marcus entirely, and although he certainly didn't wish to be included in conversations that probably only made sense to those of noble heritage he once again knew full well that this was part of Sabatt's intentions to lull them into a sense of false security.

And once again he knew that she was being so obvious about her intentions only because he could do nothing to stop her without Alandra's consent.

And Lady Alandra was being too trusting again. She really believed that their speech in Gran Lorcha had somehow reformed Sabatt and turned her into a wonderful companion or something similar. Marcus had already gotten on her bad side by suggesting they search her and put her in shackles now that they were in the heartland of the Red Prince, and only miles away from the targets of their venture.

.

The Capital of Liberotorres was in plain view, its formerly tall red towers torn down and decorated with the azure banners of Westerlin that were easily visible even from the distance. The former Rossotorres was a bulky fortress perched up high on the central mountains of this region, its architecture nowhere near as pleasing to the eye as Sabatt's lofty Crimson Citadel had been. The Red Prince's capital was an impressive, looming bulk of red stone and gruesome walls, a monument of raw power surrounded by steep, wild mountains.

Crimson Sabatt had explained to them that there were in fact several routes across these harsh landmarks, but they were not easy to find and even harder to travel. These mountains were a perfect hideaway for any kind of troublemakers and contained several small outposts surrounded by small settlements to support them. They had always been part of the Red Prince's defence line and were very effective at that. It was simply impossible for any amount of troops to move orderly and effectively, siege engines were completely out of the question. Any attacking army would be met with avalanches of rocks and roadblocks that trapped them in place for enemy archers to dispose of them at their leisure.

It was a brutally effective retreat for the Red Prince's renegade men, and even Lord Marcus, upon seeing these mountains, had to admit that Lord Hakim's plan wasn't as crazy as he had perceived it to be. The high rock formations appeared as solid as walls made from... well, solid rock. They could probably spend days wandering around canyons and slopes and not ever find an actual ascent. Without Crimson Sabatt, he admitted, they would simply be lost here.

_.  
><em>Then happened what Marcus knew would happen, but it happened so fast neither of them had a chance to react in time.

In one incredibly swift motion, Sabatt snatched Alandra's staff from her saddle and kicked at her while at the same time she flung the staff into the direction of Marcus' charger who reared.

Sabatt's mare was already a fair distance away when both took up the chase. With thundering hooves, their horses bolted after the escapee but it was already evident that they wouldn't be able to catch up.

This was the reason she had insisted upon her horse, Alandra grimly realised. Her doe-eyed, skittish and deceptively frail looking mare was a natural born runner, and Crimson Sabatt a masterful rider; her horse sped away at a mile-eating gallop that neither Alandra's nor Marcus' horses could hope to match.

With a high buzzing noise an arrow whirred past Alandra's head. She instinctively ducked down low, further urging her horse on.

Sabatt continued her flight in reckless swerves, her horse creating a solid cloud of dust as it dashed across the plains in quick foolhardy manoeuvres that rendered any chance of getting a clear shot impossible. Not only a runner but also incredibly mobile.

A second arrow zoomed through the air, then a third.

And then, suddenly, Crimson Sabatt was gone.

"It's a trap!" Marcus cried, "Don't follow her, she set us up!"

"Drat!" It was Kestral, her bow in hand, bringing her mare to a sharp halt next to Alandra who clenched her teeth in anger as she, too, tugged at the reins of her puffing horse.

Marcus closed up to them, his face a mask of rage.

The young Knight glared in the direction where their antagonist had so mysteriously disappeared. The sheer rock walls offered no sign of explanation from this angle.

"Crimson Sabatt!" Marcus bellowed with scorn, "We will have your head! Do you understand me? _We will have your head!_"

There was little satisfaction in the echoes that returned from the rocks and scarps. It sounded as hollow as Marcus perceived his words to be. To be fooled once again when he had sworn to himself that he would not – this was the last time he had made this mistake; Sabatt was condemned to death by his zealous, mortal hatred.

He roughly pulled the reins to turn his charger. "Let's go, this is useless. We'll assemble our troops and march out before Sabatt organises her own little army."

"Aren't you even going to question me being here?" Kestral seemed a little perplexed as she strapped her bow to her horse.

"No", Marcus retorted gruffly, "You're probably sent to prevent what just happened; so good job."

Kestral sighed. "I'm sure one arrow got her, but that horse was just too fast. I'm sorry." Her mouth was set to a hard line and her brow furrowed deeply. "Drat that woman. Told you it was a nice horse."

They rode back the way they had come. Alandra turned her head to look back over her shoulder. "Should we just leave her here? She might be injured."

"And I hope she bleeds to death, too. Seriously, the only thing _she_ has to worry about is _not _being dead by the time we see her again."

Alandra sighed and nodded. They were right, of course. Crimson Sabatt had once again deceived them.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Why don't you show me where exactly you want me to pierce additional holes into Sabatt, because here she comes." Kestral pointed a slender finger towards the distant mountain scarp. A large cloud of dust rose in the distance like an impending sand storm that steadily approached the outpost. Marcus quickly brought the looking glass to his eyes. "Six battalions. Swordsmen, pikemen, some archers, no cavalry."

Kestral peered to have a look. "All that red. Swell. Like in the old times, huh?"

Marcus gave a grim nod. "The not so long ago old times. Ready the archers, Lady Kestral, we shall give them a warm welcome."

"By the heavens!" Alandra came hurrying in a pace that was just short of running. "That atrocious woman really has the nerve to assail us!"

The young man passed the looking glass to Alandra who brought it to her eyes. "We have been too careless, Marcus," she admitted. "Six battalions, she can not possibly hope to take us down and survive."

"That won't stop her from trying. You know as well as I that Sabatt is ruthless. She'll probably just wear us down while she summons more troops and attacks the settlements."

Alandra sighed. "Yes, that sounds like her."

"Not if we can stop her." Marcus clasped his hand around the hilt of his sword with a grim expression. "If she has a death wish, I'll gladly oblige." He hurried towards the palisade scaffoldings, climbing the ladder as fast as he could. Sabatt's army was much closer now and he could make out individual faces if he squinted his eyes. Marcus got the impression that the men looked weary and alert. Sabatt, on the other hand, seemed rather smug on her horse as she led her troops.

Alandra appeared next to Marcus and got the same impression through the looking glass. "Her men are worn out. Marcus, could it be possible that she does not plan to attack us? I see no banners."

"To lull us into believing she won't. I bet she put those tired soldiers in the first line to give that impression. I'm not falling for her tricks again."

Alandra pursed her lips. Her brow was set to a deep frown. "No, I don't actually believe that. She said she was on our side..."

"Alandra, does this _look _like it? I hate to call you naïve, but you really should not – Alandra?"

The general hurried down the ladder and looked up at him, face hidden by her cloak. "Hold the men, Marcus, I will go and meet Sabatt."

She didn't wait for his response to her order as she ran off to get her horse. Alandra didn't believe she was being naïve this time. She was convinced that Marcus was wrong, and that Sabatt _wanted_ him to get the impression that she would try to wreck havoc upon their outpost. It made sense to her in a strange way – Sabatt was impish, not stupid. She wouldn't bite this time, only bark.

"Alandra!"

Lady Alandra mounted her horse and immediately set her to a fast trot. "Hold the men, Marcus! Sabatt is just playing games!"

She passed the gate and rode towards the enemy lines. Alandra's face was set to a firm expression and her angry glare set upon the crimson-clad woman who waited in front of her army that had come to a halt. She could easily make out Sabatt's smug face as she rode closer. Sabatt wouldn't look so smug if this wasn't a ruse, she hoped.

Sabatt approached her now, detaching herself from her waiting army. Alandra tugged at the reins and waited for her to meet up. She could now recognise a bandage around Sabatt's left arm. Kestral had obviously been right about her arrow; this satisfied her immensely.

Sabatt had nearly reached the waiting Alandra when heavy hoofbeats shook the ground and Marcus brought his charger to a sharp halt next to Alandra.

Lord Marcus glowered at Crimson Sabatt. He was not up for any games. His icy blue glare dared her to make one wrong move, to say one wrong word and be done for.

His humourless expression must have unsettled Sabatt, for she inclined her head in her unnerving servile obedience that was anything but genuine. "Please accept the surrender of these men formerly in service of the Red Prince."

The soldiers dropped their weapons to the ground wordlessly and in unison. Most of them, Alandra observed, were thoroughly worn out. They didn't dare to look at the Knights. Most faces expressed hopeful expectation; these soldiers certainly weren't up for any serious fight. Alandra wondered what the Red Prince made them believe so they would rather die than surrender on their own.

Alandra regarded the pitiful little army with a stern look as she scanned the faces of the men. "I, Lady Alandra of Westerlin, accept your surrender. You were misled by the Red Prince, and we will prove to you that those loyal to our Queen have nothing to fear."

Marcus spoke. "We hold no grudge against you, loyal soldiers! Come, follow me and let us celebrate this victory!"

Alandra smiled as the weary men looked at Marcus and immediately recognised him as their leader. This would have angered her to no end only a year ago. He certainly had a way with the military folks.

She turned her head when Sabatt rode up next to her to watch the scene. "You as well – although I should probably hit you with my staff instead to beat some sense into you!"

Sabatt cocked her eyebrow. "I did what was requested from me." No one had ever looked so smug. The woman from Gueranna wouldn't miss a single opportunity to annoy them, even if it was borderline insane. Lady Alandra became very aware that Sabatt had counted on her to come to the right conclusion before her little game could manage to aggravate Marcus into attacking her. For some reason, this did not flatter her at all.

"Forgive me if I don't feel like applauding you." Alandra harshly pointed towards the encampment. "Come."

.

A gawking Kestral met up with them as soon as everyone had dismounted, clearly not happy to see Crimson Sabatt – and the feeling was entirely mutual.

Sabatt accusingly pointed an arrow at her. It was Kestral's, and it had obviously been removed from Sabatt's arm. "Try that again and I will tan your hide, bandit."

Kestral scoffed, puffing her cheeks belligerently. "_You _tan my hide? Bold words from someone whose hide I already pierced! I hope you die of blood poisoning, but she-snakes are probably immune!"

Crimson Sabatt's eyebrow rose a sliver as she very nonchalantly dropped the arrow into the cleavage of Kestral's leather jerkin. "You might want to keep your trophy, rogue, for the next time you and your bandit friends meet in some dirty quayside pub to boast of your heroic deeds in drunken stupor."

"Whoa!" Kestral angrily grabbed the arrow and poked it at Sabatt's face. "You want another piece of me, Crimmy?"

"Give me that and I shall have several and take my pick." Sabatt groped for one of the daggers at Kestral's belt but Alandra rigorously clasped her hand around the injured arm and pulled her away, causing an entirely satisfying little hiss of surprise and pain.

"Oh no, you don't! Now behave and let me tend to that wound, and if you don't, I'll wrap a bandage around your malicious tongue as well!"

Kestral grinned cheekily and waved. "Bye, Crimmy! Be good!"

"You, too, Kestral!" came Alandra's warning.

Marcus sighed wearily. There ought to be … interesting times ahead.

He shook his head and went to mingle with the soldiers, new-arrivals as well as his own, to put everything in order.


	7. Leopard Spots And The End

The next morning, Crimson Sabatt was gone.

"She took her horse," said Marcus, "and must have left during the celebration last night. One of the guards thinks he saw her ride off, and she is probably well away now." He sighed and held up his hand. "Sabatt left a note and a book." He handed both a scrap of parchment and the mysterious book to Alandra, who shook her head as she read the short note.

"_Thank you for a rather pleasant journey. Until we meet again. Crimson Sabatt"_

"Doesn't make much sense to try to follow her, huh?" Kestral scratched her nose, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Well. Wisey said we should just let her run if this happens. I think he kinda expected it."

Marcus stood squarely, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he obviously considered Kestral's words, then turned his attention towards the book in Alandra's hands. "I admit I am not too keen on rounding her up again, and I reckon we're not lucky enough to have seen the last of her yet. And what is this about?"

Lady Alandra curiously opened the book where a single black feather had been placed to mark a page. There, neatly written on the blank space next to a poem that Alandra recognised in an instant, stood its translation in Sabatt's eloquent handwriting.

Alandra chuckled. "This is for me," she explained, "It is a leopard spot, and I shall treasure it." Alandra looked at the book with an expression of fondness on her face.

She had been right after all, the olive branch had simply come at the wrong time.

"A what? What are you talking about?"

"Hah, _I _get it!" Kestral grinned as she ran her fingers along the feathers that adorned her helmet.

"You certainly would, Kestral." Both women shared a rare knowing grin, and Alandra elaborated: "It means that among a leopard's countless spots there ought to be some, albeit hidden, that are indeed soft." Alandra chuckled slightly. "It is either an apology or a thank-you, I am not sure which."

"I see," exclaimed Marcus, who really didn't. "So this is some kind of happy ending then?"

"As happy as it gets, Lord Marcus. The last to arrive at Castle Vestholm has to check the tax records!"

The Knights swiftly prepared their horses, said their good-byes and hurried off westward, towards home.

- THE END -

_And –_

_Never leave a moment too soon  
>Never waste a hot afternoon<br>Nobody's on nobody's side  
>Never stay a minute too long<br>Don't forget the best will go wrong  
>Nobody's on nobody's side<em>


End file.
